


Breathless

by Verudaru (veldygee)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asthmatic Yuuri, M/M, Smoker Viktor, barista Viktor, dance instructor Yuuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 21:37:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11366136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veldygee/pseuds/Verudaru
Summary: “I don't know what's actually happening—“ Mila interjected, “—but you met a guy, you triggered his asthma because you smoke, he almost 'died' but didn't, and now you decided to finally quit smoking for real?”ORViktor is a heavy smoker who accidentally triggers Yuuri's asthma. This is Viktor's story on quitting.(It's not easy.)





	Breathless

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Gee here :)
> 
> So this is a fanfiction that I have been writing since... a couple of months ago? It's all started when I saw a fanart somewhere on twitter about Viktor pretending to smoke to look cool. I've been seeing such pattern a lot everywhere and like okay, I can _see_ how it may be appealing, like the smoke in photograph can be very aesthethic looking, but smoking is not cool. At all. So here I am, writing a fanfiction in which Viktor is already a heavy smoker where he eventually will quit. Because you know. Smoking is not cool. It's bad for your health and bad for everyone around you too. 
> 
> Thank you so much for [Rae](https://charleerei.tumblr.com/) and my friend [tagteamme](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tagteamme/pseuds/tagteamme) for being the first readers of this fic that never ends LOL (Check their pages!)
> 
> This fic is not fully beta-ed, so do let me know if you spot any mistakes. This fic is definitely longer than what was once planned LOL 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy reading this part! I will do my best to keep on writing and eventually finish this fic in between by busy medical school!

There was a saying that people you met and the friends you made along the way would shape and influence your life in ways you could only see years later. When Viktor was fifteen and still gullible and impressionable enough, he picked up the habit of smoking from a bunch of friends that he was no longer in contact with. He could still remember his first drag of cigarette, encouraged by that group of friends he had in high school, as part of the initiation. It felt very important back then. He was nervous and he knew what his parents' stand on smoking even though he would never dare to say it out loud toward his friends back then. As one friend—Ivan, if he wasn't wrong—put the shared lit cigarette in between his fingers, he swallowed his nerves before he took that first inhale.

He remembered the sharp feeling he felt and his body involuntary reaction to cough. His friends back then laughed and cheered at him. Encouraging him to take a couple more puffs. The second drag was no less better, by the third he didn't feel like coughing too much, and then by the end of the day he finished one cigaretter all by himself. When he walked home from school, he stopped and took a sniff from his long hair and his clothes and he panicked when he could smell the remnant of smoke. Viktor took a reroute to buy scent-remover or anything like that. He sprayed almost half of the bottle all over himself and he smelled more chemical than smoke and he only smiled innocently when he saw his mother's questioning glance.

He wish he could say that it was the first and the last time, but it became his past time after school and whenever they hung out during the weekends. He knew to put his long hair in a bun to save it from the worst of the smell before he started to smoke and to carry a spray bottle of scent remover in his bag. He was found out by his mother when she found the cigarrette pack in his jumper's pocket he forgot to take out and got a scolding to last a life time, but that didn't exactly stop him. He became more discreet and there was nothing much what his parents could do. By the end of the school year, there was not a day he didn't smoke at least one before he became too agitated to do anything else.

Now at twenty seven, he smoked two packs per day and not a day passed without him cursing his younger self for picking up the habit. Viktor sighed when he began to feel the signs of agitation and restlessness, feeling the craving for a smoke. He clenched his hands into a fist before releasing it, taking a deep breath. It didn't help like he knew it didn't. The coffee shop had a bit of a lull right now and rather than wait, maybe he should just take the smoke break now. Viktor removed his apron, hanging it on a nearby hook.

“Smoke break already Viktor?” asked Chris, looking up from where he was scrolling through his instagram feed. Viktor nodded, taking his cigarette pack, his lighter and his pocket ashtray where he stowed it under the counter.

“I'll be right back,” replied Viktor, walking out of the shop to stop in the small alleyway just a few shops away from the coffee shop, leaning against the dirty bricks. He put one cigarette in between his lips and lit it up. The first drag was calming. He closed his eyes as he exhaled, as he felt the agitations began to fade. Viktor took his phone out and scrolled through his instagram feed as he finished his cigarette. He was never particularly fond of actually taking a smoke break. It was boring since he had no one with and he would not ask any of his non-smoker friends to join him. When he finished his first, he typed a comment on Yura's recent instagram post, before he lit a second one.

Viktor should really quit smoking one of these days.

He was in the middle of absentmindedly playing Crossy Road while finishing his cigarettes, not paying attention to any pedestrians passing by, when from the corner of his mind Viktor caught someone's grocery bag's contents strewn all across the street right in front of the alleyway. Viktor turned around and saw a man kneeling down to put all the contents back in with one one hand while the other is still holding another big grocery bag. Viktor didn't think twice—didn't even think to put the cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth away—before he rushed over to help the guy gathering all the contents back.

It was like slow motion. The man turned his head toward Viktor opening his mouth—probably to say thanks—before he suddenly began to cough repeatedly, before eventually his breathing turned into a wheeze. Viktor's eyes widened and immediately he put off his cigarette in his pocket ashtray and waved away the remaining smoke. The man in front of him was red-faced—quickly turning blue. Viktor was flailing and he could only gape speechless as he didn't know what to do. The man in front of him kept wheezing, before his hand slowly pointed to the bag he carried. Viktor quickly took over the man's bag and rummaged inside to finally found the one thing he only ever saw on film and TV.

The man motioned for Viktor to give him the inhaler. Viktor did. The man shook the inhaler in one shaky hand and then put it in his mouth before he took a shaky breath as he pressed on the inhaler. Viktor was tense for the first few moments as he watched the man breathing in and out, but after what felt like eternity, the man removed the inhaler and he started breathing close to normal, no longer close to _actually_ dying. It was during that moment Viktor paid closer attention to the man in front of him—east-asian looking with soft-looking jet-black hair, warm brown eyes behind a pair of blue-rimmed glasses, soft round cheeks that were still flushed red—

“I'm sorry,” said the man in front of him with a small apologetic smile, cutting Viktor's observation short. Viktor blinked.

“I'm sorry?!” Viktor couldn't help but exclaimed—probably too loud as the man in front of him winced that made Viktor felt even guiltier. “I almost killed you! I should be the one who said I'm sorry!” continued Viktor wild, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Well, I probably scared you?” replied the man sounding unsure. Viktor groaned in frustration.

“Very much. I don't think I ever felt that helpless before—but it doesn't mean you should be the one who said sorry. It was my smoking, wasn't it?” Viktor said and he raised his hand before the man could say another word. “I'm not going to accept your apology because it's my fault, okay? I'm sorry.”

The man in front of him stared at Viktor as if he had just grown a second head. Viktor's cheeks were probably flushed ugly and his heart rate was just returning to its normal pace. He didn't know what to expect, but the man in front of him smiled shyly and Viktor could feel his heart started to pick up again.

This man was cute.

Too bad that Viktor had almost killed him.

“I appreciate it but you also don't actually have to say sorry since you didn't know that I have ashtma and you only wanted to help with this—“ the man motioned to the stuff that were still scattered on the ground. “So, let's call it even?”

Viktor wanted to argue more but he could sense the stubborness leaking through beyond the polite words and shy smile but, “At least let me buy you a coffee—“ said Viktor who only realised how he must have sounded after he saw the man glanced away feeling awkward. He quickly tried to amend this. “—I work in that coffee shop. We have some spare grocery bags that you can use too. Please?” pleaded Viktor. It felt like forever before the man nodded his head and mouthed thank you. Viktor's heart clenched for this man. Together they gathered the scattered groceries in the arms that fortunately hadn't been too damaged by the spectacles earlier. Viktor also insisted to carry the other grocery bag and soon they made their way to the coffee shop, the man just a few steps behind Viktor.

Chris looked up from where he was apparently still glued to his phone when he heard the bell rang as the door was opened. The same two patrons before Viktor left were still sitting in the corners, eyes glued to their laptops. Chris raised one of his eyebrows in question.

“I didn't send you for groceries, did I?” asked Chris dubious. Viktor walked to the nearest table and put the groceries on the surface. The man followed the same and Viktor motioned him to sit down on the wooden chair.

“We still have those spare grocery bags, right? These groceries are—“ Viktor remembered that he actually didn't know this man's name. Viktor turned to face the man. “—sorry, but may I know your name?” asked Viktor politely, still feeling overtly guilty.

“It's Yuuri. A—and your name?”

“I'm Viktor. Nice to meet you, I guess?” he introduced himself, feeling awkward with his own words. He turned to face Chris again who didn't even try to hide his grin. “These groceries are Yuuri's. His bag ripped,” Viktor explained briefly to Viktor—skipping the part where he almost killed the man for now. Chris nodded, giving him a look stating that he knew there was something Viktor didn't tell him, before he looked below the counter to hunt for the grocery bags.

“Thank you so much, Viktor,” said Yuuri, giving Viktor the same smile as before. “You really don't have to.”

“You can't just carry these with the ripped bag. It's all fine, alright?” assured Viktor. “Now, for that coffee I said before, what do you want? You can choose anything.” Yuuri pushed his glasses upward and slightly squinted to read the menu board hanging above the counter. Viktor felt uncharacteristically charmed.

“I'll just have latte, if it's alright?” answered Yuuri, sounding unsure. Viktor had this sudden urge to wrap this man in fluffy blankets and gave him all the hot drinks.

“Okay, just sit tight. Do you need anything else? Cakes or quiches, maybe? My friend, Chris made a mean cheese quiche.”

“No, it's fine. This is already so kind of you already, Viktor,” said Yuuri, his hands fiddling on his lap. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. I'm really sorry for earlier, okay? I'll be right back with your drink,” said Viktor before he walked to the counter and start to prepare Yuuri's drink. Viktor was silently startled when he saw Chris kneeling behind the counter, grocery bag already in one hand. He was obviously listening earlier. Viktor flushed and glared at his friend, who simply looked back to tell him that Viktor would have to spill later.

The sound of the coffee machine was soothing as Viktor brewed the espresso, frothing the milk while waiting. He couldn't help but steal a few glances toward Yuuri who now seemed to be typing furiously on his phone, red still high on his cheeks. The light from the window beside him was really highlighting his profile, making him looked softer and almost ethereal. Viktor felt his heart clenched again, cursing his fifteen year old self for ruining any of his chances to be with that man. He never hated himself more at this point when his body's first idea for stress relief idea was smoking, _when_ the stress in the first place was caused by him smoking.

He really _really_ should have never started smoking in the first place.

The quite beep noise indicated that esperesso was done. Viktor focused on frothing the milk just right before he grabbed a clear glass from on top of the coffee machine and the saucer, pouring the espresso shot inside and then the liquid milk, before he finished by spooning a dollop of the froth part of the milk on top. He took a few additional seconds to make his signature Makkachin latte art, inspired from Makkachin. With a satisfied smile, he grabbed the spare grocery bag from Chris and walked back toward where Yuuri was sitting.

Yuuri looked up and immediately put his phone down, the screen turned black. Viktor smiled and then carefully put the glass of flat white and saucer in front of Yuuri. He felt so delighted when he saw Yuuri's eyes widened as he saw the latte art. Yuuri's face bloomed into a smile wider than before and if Viktor didn't actually have a mild crush before, he definitely had it now.

“A poodle!” cried Yuuri in joy. “Oh no, I feel bad to drink it now. This is amazing, Viktor,” he praised, taking his phone to open the camera app and took a few photos of the latte art. Many people had expressed their admirations of Viktor's latte art, but Viktor never felt this pleased.

“Thank you, Yuuri. I'm glad you love it.”

“Yes. Poodle is my favourite,” replied Yuuri and again, another clench in Viktor's heart. Cute, effortlessly charming, and loved poodle. Yuuri had slowly but surely ticking the criteria list of Viktor's ideal boyfriend. Viktor sat down at the seat in front of Yuuri, ignoring the look he could feel from Chris behind the counter, showing the man the spare grocery bag. Yuuri nodded his thanks and slowly he put the groceries on the table into the bag, Viktor helping by holding the bag open. Very soon enough, it was done and there were two groceries bag by the table. Viktor was feeling awkward now—he was not sure whether he could keep sitting there or not, but fortunately he didn't have to consciously make the choice since the bell rang and a customer walked in. Viktor stood up.

“I have to get back to work,” stated Viktor. Yuuri somehow looked disappointed, but it must be Viktor's own imagination. “Enjoy your latte.”

“Yes. Thank you very much, Viktor” replied Yuuri smiling sheepishly. Viktor took a few step backwards, feeling too captivated to look away, before he forced himself to turn around and attended the counter, tying his apron back on. A group of customers walked in next and it was busy then for the next half hour, making one drink order after another. When the wave of customers was over, Viktor glanced back toward where Yuuri was sitting, but the man was gone and Viktor felt the wave of disappointment washed over him.

Viktor walked toward the table to collect the empty glass of latte when he noticed there was a paper underneath the saucer. He opened it and he felt rush of warmth when he saw it was a note from Yuuri.

_I'm sorry I didn't return the glass to the counter. You two were really busy and I had to really go. I will return the grocery bag soon. Thank you. - Yuuri_

Viktor couldn't help the smile on his face. He folded the note carefully and put it in his front apron pocket. When Viktor returned with the empty glass back toward the counter, Chris was smiling wide with glint on his eyes.

“So, spill,” demanded Chris. Viktor put the empty glass on the sink and pulled a chair to sit down before he told the entire story of what happened earlier. Viktor could feel Chris' gaze of pity on him during the entire story.

“Your smoking triggered his asthma attack,” concluded Chris, torn between feeling amused and feeling pity. “Oh, Viktor...”

“I know, Chris. I know,” Viktor groaned in frustration. “The one time I met one guy who seemingly so perfect, and of course I almost killed him instead, right?” Chris didn't say anything for a long time and Viktor didn't really expect him to.

“Well, maybe it's a good time to finally quit smoking, Viktor.”

Viktor paused and really looked at Chris. His best friend had made a startingly obvious point. Viktor had been wanting to quit smoking and this... this was good. He would quit for Yuuri. His chances to even think of a possibility of a date with Yuuri was ruined already by today, but if he could become Yuuri's friend, that'd be more than good enough. Even if he never saw Yuuri after the man returned the grocery bag, Viktor never wanted to ever accidentally trigger anyone's ashtma ever again.

“You are right. I'm going to quit smoking and you better help me, Chris.”

 

-o-o-o-

After the closing time, Viktor walked back to his apartment and greeted Makkachin who eagerly wagged his tail when he saw Viktor had returned home. He chuckled when he saw his favourite girl lolling his tongue out and he couldn't help but pepper her with kisses and then went to the cabinet to pull out Makkachin's food and filled her bowl and refilled her water. Letting Makkachin to finish her meal and then waiting for her usual evening walk, Viktor would usually lit a cigarette and turned on the TV as he sat by the window and let the cigarettes and the ambient noises from TV and the city below washed away his problems and relieved him for the day.

This time though, Viktor ignored his urge for a smoke and instead grabbed his laptop and turned it on. He opened his browser and started to look up information on how to quit smoking. There were so many information from benefits, tips, methods, and also challenges that he might face along the way. He took notes on his phone, writing down things that he wanted to buy to help him quit, from nicotine patches to gum—and maybe a vape too for the first few weeks. After reading pages upon pages from various different websites, a part of Viktor wanted to scoff and be mean—it felt as if the writers didn't know the true experiences of smoker—but he knew it was just him being petty and also himself dreading the upcoming days and weeks ahead.

Viktor took out his lighter, the half-empty pack of cigarettes, and his pocket ashtray. He wondered if maybe he should just finish this last pack and began his quitting journey tomorrow. But the image from earlier today was still very clear in his mind—of Yuuri having an ashtma attack, struggling to breathe because of his smoking— and Viktor knew he was just trying to make excuses. If he wanted to quit, he didn't have to wait until tomorrow. With a deep breath, Viktor walked to the trash bin in his kitchen and threw away his pack, lighter, and his pocket ashtray. He also hunted for a few ashtrays, cigarette packs, and lighters he had lying around in his apartment and threw those away as well. His first instinct was to immediately grab everything back from the bin, but Viktor ignored it.

He distracted himself by preparing himself dinner with whatever remaining ingredients he had left. It had been a few hours since his last puff and even though he had gone longer before—when the coffee shop was too busy to even take a short smoke break or when he was on a plane—the acknowledgement that there would be no next cigarette was causing him to feel the agitation ever more. Viktor sighed, curling and uncurling his fists, and opened every drawer in his apartment to see if there was any mint or gum lying around. He was in luck when he saw a can of mint candy in the drawer near television—which probably belonged to his cousin Yura when he came over a few days ago. Viktor put a few in his mouth at once and he sucked on the mints quick. It helped a bit.

After he finished with his meager dinner—a box of mac and cheese he also knew belonged to Yura—Makkachin who also had finished with her dinner joined him the couch for a session of cuddling. Viktor chuckled as his girl licked all over his face. He buried his face in Makkachin's soft curls while also watching the television mindlessly until the hour for Makkachin's walk.

He grabbed her leash and then off they go for their evening walk. Usually Viktor let Makkachin chose her route, but this time Viktor lead as he had to stop by the drug store to buy a couple of things to help him quit. He came home with a few boxes of nicotine patches to last for a month, instructions on how to use it properly, and also a few boxes of gums. He ended the day feeling more exhausted and more determined than he had ever felt in years and it didn't take long before sleep took over, Makkachin sleeping by his feet.

When he woke up the next morning, Viktor's first thought was to lit a cigarette before a second thought quickly reminded him that he had decided to quit now. He checked his phone for time and he realised he still had a couple of hours to kill before he had to go to work. He groaned and stared at the ceiling, feeling restless. He knew he couldn't go back to sleep again even if he wanted to. He got out of his bed and he applied the nicotine patch on his upper arm as instructed, but he had learnt that the effect was not immediate. Viktor was growing more agitated by the minute and he remembered what he read that when the urge was strong he should do something to distract himself. When he noticed early-riser joggers passing by the street below, Viktor decided to do the same.

Putting on a loose t-shirt and long track pants, Viktor quietly left the room, trying not to wake Makkachin up. When he returned 30 minutes later, feeling less agitated, Makkachin was already wide awake, waiting for her morning walk. Viktor couldn't help but sighed and kissed Makkachin before he took her out. He should remember from now on to schedule his jog with Makkachin's walk if he was going to do this again.

By the time he arrived at the coffee shop in the morning, he felt more like his usual self but smoke-free for more than twelve hours. The nicotine patch began to have its effect since he felt less craving than early this morning. Viktor helped Chris and Mila—part-timer for morning shift—pulled down chairs from top of the table.

“So do you start already?” asked Chris conversationally. Viktor hummed in affirmative.

“Threw away ashtrays, lighters, and all packs I have in my apartment last night. Also bought patches and gums,” answered Viktor, rolling his t-shirt sleeves to show off the patch. “This is the longest I haven't smoked since I was 20.” Chris smiled wide and patted Viktor's shoulders in encouragement.

“I'll be here if you need anything,” said Chris. “Who knows that what it needs is your perfect man for you to finally decide to quit smoking for real.” Viktor felt his face flushed—especially when he saw Mila looking over with such interest.

“I wish, but it's not going to happen, Chris—like didn't you listen to what I told you yesterday? I _almost_ killed him,” replied Viktor, almost whining.

“You triggered his asthma attack—“

“He was blue for a few seconds, Chris—I almost killed him,” Viktor repeated. Mila had come closer now, standing next to Chris, a broom in one hand.

“I don't know what's actually happening—“ Mila interjected, “—but you met a guy, you triggered his asthma because you smoke, he almost 'died' but didn't, and now you decided to finally quit smoking for real?”

“There's also the part where our dear Viktor here was helping that guy carried the contents of his ripped grocery bag, lending him our spare grocery bag, and even giving him a special Makkachin latte art as apology—which that guy absolutely adores,” added Chris. “That guy also left behind a note which Viktor still kept it in his apron.” Mila looked at Viktor before she quickly leapt over the counter—in a way that was absolutely prohibited—and then checked in Viktor's apron for said note before Viktor could even think to protest. Mila exclaimed in victory when she found it.

“I thought he was giving you his phone number,” commented Mila disappointed after she unfolded and read the note. “Sounds to me like you have met the love of your life—but he is going to return the bag and that's your chance to ask for his numbers, Viktor!”

Viktor groaned and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Which part of _'I almost killed him'_ that you didn't understand?” sniped Viktor feeling irritated. He was really itching for a smoke now. “There is just no way he is going to even consider, Mila.”

“Look, Viktor. You triggered his asthma attack once and you said that 'he almost died', but he was fine. If he is asthmatic—and actually carry around an inhaler—trust me when I said he is probably already used to it. I'm not saying it to be cruel—my girlfriend is asthmatic too, you know—but he didn't blame you, did he? And it's not like you were purposefully triggering his attack—you even decided to quit after yesterday!” replied Mila. “I really don't know anything about this situation, but if he sees you and knows that you decided to quit because of him, he will really _really_ appreciate, despite the fact that you triggered his attack once by accident.”

“I agree with Mila,” Chris added. “I've seen how you looked at him yesterday and from what I looked on him yesterday, you are not completely out of chance like you believe you are.” Viktor didn't want to respond and decided that it was a good time as any to stop the conversation by flipping the door sign to open. He started on the coffee machine, whirring it to life—Chris and Mila also joined him behind the counter, understanding that Viktor didn't want to continue the conversation. Soon the first customers of the morning started to roll in and Viktor put up his hair in a loose bun. There was no room for any thoughts but to create one perfect drink after another.

The morning wave ceased in a hour and there was room for breathing. Usually after the first morning wave would be Viktor's first smoke break of the day, but this time around he pulled his pack of nicotine gum and chewed one of it. He didn't even realise how agitated he had felt, until he could taste the first tingling in his mouth. He realised now why for some people using just nicotine patch was not enough.

That was how the day went—not unlike any usual day, minus Viktor's smoke breaks—until a little after lunch time, the bell rang and with it enter Yuuri with a sheepish smile. Viktor couldn't help the smile on his face as he immediately walked around the counter to greet Yuuri. From beside him, he could hear Chris' snort ungracefully and Mila hissing, “Go get his numbers”

“Hi Viktor,” greeted Yuuri. “I'm here to return the spare grocery bag—“ he handed said spare bag over. “—thank you so much! And also for the latte from yesterday. I'm really sorry I didn't bring the glass to the counter.”

“It's alright. Again, I'm sorry for yesterday. How are you feeling? ” asked Viktor, anxiously clutching the grocery bag due to his irrational want to prolong the conversation as long as possible.

“I'm feeling fine, thank you. Please don't apologise anymore because it's _really_ not your fault, Viktor,” replied Yuuri, half-bowing.

“Do you want coffee again?” asked Viktor, rubbing the back of his head feeling uncharacteristically nervous.

“Oh no, I'm okay, thank you,” replied Yuuri, glancing sideways—probably feeling uncomfortable and wanted to leave immediately which made Viktor's heart clenched painfully. It was awkward silence for a few seconds before suddenly Mila's voice interrupted.

“Oh Viktor, you haven't had lunch, right?—“ it was a lie. Viktor had a couple of Mila's handmade sandwiches just half an hour ago. Although now that Mila mentioned lunch, Viktor realised that he was not feeling as full as he usually would. “—go and take your break,” said Mila with a wink afterward that was nothing but subtle. His face felt hot. Before he could say anything back, suddenly Yuuri's voice filled in.

“I also haven't had lunch,” said Yuuri, still not meeting Viktor's eyes. Viktor felt irrational hope in his chest. “Um—“

“Do you want to grab lunch together?” blurted Viktor, feeling bold. “I know a good chinese place a couple of blocks from here.” Yuuri looked up and then nodded with a smile. Viktor had only seen that smile a few times but he felt attached to it already. He wanted to make Yuuri smiled wide—like how he looked like when Viktor presented him with Makkachin latte art—

But there was no way possible. Viktor almost killed him yesterday—Yuuri was obviously just being kind. The fact that Yuuri was dignified enough to still be friendly toward Viktor was more than what he deserved.

Viktor smiled wide, trying to hide his conflicted feelings of excitement and remorseful. He removed his apron and then grabbed his wallet and jacket. Chris was smiling wide full of mischief beside him.

“Take your time, Viktor,” Chris said purposefully loud. Mila didn't even hide her giggle.

“See you tomorrow!” cheered Mila—whose shift ended already and would go attend her classes soon. Viktor waved at them impatiently and then he walked out of the shop with Yuuri beside him. The weather was warm enough for him that he didn't really need the jacket. Yuuri beside him was fidgeting and rubbing his hands together. Was he feeling cold? Viktor always had higher cold tolerance than most people. He looked at the jacket in his hand and then offered them to Yuuri.

“Are you feeling cold?” Yuuri shook his head, smiling sheepishly.

“No no. I'm fine really—I'm just—umm, just let's go?” said Yuuri pointing his thumb away. Viktor was not convinced, but he dropped it because Yuuri had stopped rubbing his hands. Viktor tied his jacket around his waist and then walked down the street.

“You are fine with Chinese, Yuuri? I'm okay if you want something else,” said Viktor, trying to start a conversation. Yuuri nodded.

“Yes. I like Chinese food,” replied Yuuri. “I'm really sorry if I intrude on your lunch break?” Viktor couldn't possibly say that he was the one who should say sorry for deceiving Yuuri.

“You're not. I'm glad that I have company for lunch.”

“You don't eat together with the rest?” asked Yuuri.

“Nah. We take separate breaks to make sure there's always people in the shop to serve the customers,” answered Viktor. Yuuri nodded slowly.

“And it's fine to go for lunch a couple of blocks away?”

“Well, Chris told me to take my time, so I will take my time,” replied Viktor, maybe sounding a bit petty. He paused when he realised how it sounded. “You don't mind?”

“I had my classes in the morning and only have to meet my friend after lunch, so I don't mind having long lunch if that's what you mean?” said Yuuri which made Viktor smiling wide. His heart was fluttering like mad with the idea of spending time with Yuuri.

“Are you a student, Yuuri? You mentioned classes?” asked Viktor curious, wanting to get to know Yuuri. Said man laughed and shook his head.

“Oh no. I'm done with uni for now fortunately. I'm a dance instructor,” replied Yuuri which made Viktor took a second look and felt more appreciative toward Yuuri's lean soft figure, which made him flushed when he imagined how Yuuri looked like dancing. But—another part of his brain suddenly interrupted—how was it possible to dance with ashtma?

“Dance instructor?” asked Viktor, couldn't hide his confusion. “But—umm, you have asthma?” Yuuri chuckled at that, probably used by this kind of question. Viktor felt so ignorant at this moment and he felt his face burnt.

“I do, but I've been dancing since I was three and I've learn a few tricks to keep my breathing under control. Having my inhaler within reach also helps a lot,” replied Yuuri which didn't look offended at all. Viktor quietly sighed in relief. Admiration began to bloom for the other man. Yuuri was definitely so much more than his attractive appearance.

“That's amazing, Yuuri,” praised Viktor with awe. Yuuri smiled sheepishly, red tinted his round cheeks, fixing his blue-rimmed glasses. Oh, Viktor could look at this man forever and never get bored.

“It's nothing really—I'm really just an average dancer,” replied Yuuri. Viktor didn't believe it for even a second.

“Leave it for me to judge, please,” said Viktor which he knew implying that he wanted to see Yuuri performed. He did. He could see how amazing Yuuri was already. “So, what dance are you specialising in? I have a cousin who does ballet. He works part-time at the coffee shop—oh, in fact, his name is Yuri too.” Yuuri perked at this comment.

“His name is Yuri too? What a funny coincidence, because in fact I specialise in ballet. Although I can also do a little bit of everything—mainly hip hop and tango,” replied Yuuri which impressed Viktor furthermore. They stopped at the intersection, waiting for the red light to turn green.

“How about you?” asked Yuuri looking at Viktor from underneath his long lashes. “I mean, I know that you're a barista, but do you do something else?” Viktor put one finger on top of his lips, thinking.

“Not really—I mean, technically I'm not just a barista but also a co-owner of the shop with my friend Chris, which we opened a couple of years ago and it has been doing pretty great.—,” Viktor paused, thinking whether he should tell Yuuri what he did before. “—Before becoming a barista, I modelled for a few years from when I finished high school.”

“A model? Oh—” Yuuri's eyes widened in recognition. “—You used to have long hair,” Yuuri blurted out and then immediately slapped his mouth shut, cheeks red. Viktor blinked in surprise. He didn't expect Yuuri to recognise him since he was not exactly a big name back then—some runways and he did model for some brand names, but never for worldwide campaign—and his appearance had changed greatly from his androgynous days with long flowing hair. He had cut it short then, when he decided to retire. Now his hair was barely shoulder-length that he put up in a bun most of the time and he didn't keep his face clean shaven unlike how his androgynous appearance then demanded. Sometimes cousin Yura would comment how he resembled a homeless person than not. Viktor disagreed.

“I didn't think you'd recognise me,” commented Viktor. Yuuri nodded slowly, but not saying anything else. The pedestrian light turned green and they crossed the street. Viktor was thinking of another topic of conversation, when unexpectedly Yuuri resumed the previous one.

“You certainly looked very different than before—not that it was a bad thing of course. I didn't even think that I'd meet you in real life,” commented Yuuri quietly. “I saw your video campaign for Tom Ford Autumn/Winter collection, the one where you did ballet as male version of Odette. That video—you—helped me for my junior's final dance project. You looked so graceful when you performed that.”

“I—I did?” asked Viktor, couldn't help the stutter, his tongue stumbling over the two syllables. “Thank you, but it's all camera play, ” said Viktor, not knowing what else to say, feeling as if the world just tilted. He remembered when he was contacted to take part in Swan Lake-themed video campaign. The idea was to show case his androgynous look and Viktor didn't think of much else about the campaign other than as a professional work. He didn't even think that he could inspire people by his fraud ballet technique.

“Maybe,” replied Yuuri thoughtful. “But I think you have basics in ballet, don't you?” Viktor nodded, feeling pleasantly surprised by Yuuri's straightforwardness. He had done a few years of ballet until he was 14 before he decided ballet was not for him. He didn't think that it would still show years later. Yuuri smiled almost smugly, like he was pleased that he had confirmed that Viktor had done ballet before. Viktor felt pleased too.

Less than ten minutes later, they arrived at the chinese restaurant named _Lucky Cat._ It was pretty full of people inside, but luckily some patrons decided to leave then and no one was queuing before them. Soon they were both seated and given menus to look at. Viktor had known what he was going to order so he waited as Yuuri scanned the menu, looking unnecessarily serious, as Viktor also gave some of his recommendations. Viktor wondered if this was Yuuri's default look when focusing on something. The shape of his eyes and its colours could probably intimidated people, but his features were soft—his round cheeks, his plump pink lips, the round shell of his ears—complemented by strong bone structure for his nose and jaw. Viktor mused on how someone could have such contrasting features on one face. Viktor was helplessly fascinated, but before he could continue to mindlessly stare with no shame, Yuuri's eyes moved from the menu to look at Viktor, making Viktor inwardly jumped in surprise. Viktor felt his cheeks getting hot from getting caught at staring, but Yuuri didn't seem to show any reaction—in fact, Yuuri seemed to be completely oblivious. Viktor felt both disappointed and relieved at once.

“Sorry it took me long. I've decided,” said Yuuri, half-smiling. Viktor nodded, showing that he didn't mind, before he called for the waiter. He hoped he didn't look as flustered as he actually felt.

“So, if—if it's alright to ask, why did you decide to quit?” asked Yuuri. Viktor was surprised for a second—thinking that Yuuri had somehow known he had decided to quit smoking, but then Viktor remembered what they were talking about before.

“Modeling?” Viktor asked to confirm. Yuuri nodded. Viktor frowned as he thought about his reasons, about what lead him to quit. He remembered her old Makkachin who had been with him since he was twelve, remembered how Makkachin's health was getting frail as years passed by. Her best girl couldn't run like she used to. “Makkachin—my dog—was getting older. She is almost 15 years old this year. I used to travel a lot and usually I will pay someone to take care of her, or if I spend more than a few of weeks, I would arrange for her to be taken with me. But, well—she was getting old and I realised then that... I probably didn't have much time with her. The job itself had become monotonous at that point and I was financially secured enough by then to retire. So I did,” explained Viktor. “I'm sorry if I talked too long.”

“You didn't,” replied Yuuri, smiling a different smile than before, his eyes got a different shine now. He looked down, fiddling with napkin in his hands now. “Did you get to spend enough time with Makkachin? I used to have a mini poodle. His name was Vicchan.” Yuuri's smile turned somber now. “He died just last year.”

“Oh, I'm really sorry, Yuuri,” said Viktor, feeling miserable.

“Thank you. He was a good good boy,” replied Yuuri brushing his eyes from behind his glasses. “Sorry—I still miss him very much. I didn't get to spend as much as time as I'd like for the last few years before he passed. I'm fine now. Please tell me about Makkachin,” said Yuuri. “Why's her name Makkachin?”

Viktor couldn't help smile when the conversation shifted to Makkachin.

“I was twelve when I got her—a mere two months old puppy. Her colouring reminds me of mochachino—which is the first coffee drink I had. Hence I named her after the drink. But mochachin doesn't roll easy on the tongue, hence why I just decided to call her Makkachin,” told Viktor, sheepishly, feeling tiny bit silly as he told Yuuri the origin behind Makkachin's name. Yuuri in front of him was smiling wide, looking apparently very much delighted at the story. “Do you want to see photos of her?” asked Viktor which earned him eager nods from Yuuri. Viktor took out his phone and opened his album for Makkachin which consisted over a thousand photos—and even more saved in his cloud drive. He scrolled and then chose one of the recent photo of Makkachin sleeping peacefully underneath her favourite blanket.

“Awwww—oh my god—she is so adorable—look at her underneath the blanket???” cooed Yuuri as he stared at the photo of his best girl, hiding half of his face behind his hand. “Oh—she is _too_ adorable.”

“You can check her other photos, that entire album is of Makka,” Viktor said, grinning like a fool. Yuuri smiled even wider, looking at Viktor as if he had hung the moon himself. It didn't take much time before Yuuri gave all his attention to photos of Makkachin, letting out 'ooh' and 'aww' for almost every photo and asked Viktor for stories behind many photos. Viktor took a great pleasure telling anecdotes about Makkachin toward someone that was highly enthusiastic in listening to one—most people in Viktor's life were more of a cat person than dogs—and even though all of them loved Makkachine, they usually would ask Viktor to stop after the third story about what Makkachin had done.

It also didn't hurt that he could admire Yuuri, as the man listened to Viktor's stories avidly, looking even more attractive with enthusiasm and joy radiating him. Viktor knew that his crush on this man was getting more real the more time he spent with Yuuri, but even though it was very improbable—don't forget about yesterday, Viktor—he couldn't help the happiness he was feeling and the very strong urge to make Yuuri smiled like this always.

A small part of Viktor's brain was screaming at him, frightened at how fast and how hard he quickly fell for this man in front of him.

Oh, how much Viktor wanted to get to know Yuuri—as much as Yuuri would let him.

The conversation flowed smoothly between them and it continued even after Yuuri—reluctantly—gave Viktor back his phone when their orders arrived fifteen minutes later. From Yuuri's shenanigans with his best friend Phichit, to Viktor's anecdotes on some customers that had graced themselves in the coffee shop. Viktor's face would probably be aching by the end of the day with the amount of smiling he was doing, but he didn't mind at all.

“So, did you like the food, Yuuri?” asked Viktor after he finished the last of his meal, around the same time as Yuuri took the last few bites of his own. Viktor noticed the feeling of restlessness that started to rise from deep within his gut after he finished his food—his second within an hour—and he recognised it as the craving for a smoke like he usually did after a meal. Viktor breathe deeply to calm his gut as he patted his jeans' pockets for his pack of nicotine gum—the first and second gums had long been chewed away. He felt nothing but his wallet. Viktor silently swore.

“Yes, thanks for bringing me here—and for imposing on your lunch time,” answered Yuuri sheepishly, taking a few sips of water from the glass. “I will have to remember this place for next time.”

“I'm glad it's to your taste,” Viktor replied, as he continued to pat now the pockets of his jacket, but it was fruitless too. “And it's no imposing as all. I'm honestly really glad for the company, Yuuri. No one listens to my stories about Makka as attentive as you did,” added Viktor, borderline flirting. Yuuri smiled bashfully, leaning forward to rest his left cheek on his hand.

“Their loss. Makkachin is adorable and I wish I could meet her in person,” said Yuuri almost dreamily. Viktor smiled through his agitation, fidgeting and moving his legs to ease the restlessness that was built up, as subtle as possible to not alert Yuuri. It was almost as if his body had a mind on its own. Effect of addiction, Viktor had read yesterday. His body would be having a withdrawal, a craving for nicotine that would manifest in agitation, among other symptoms. He had read that the most difficult would be the first few days to weeks. He could do this. He would get his nicotine supply when he got back to the coffee shop soon. 

“I know Makkachin will love you, Yuuri,” said Viktor. “I can bring Makka to the shop tomorrow, if you want to meet her?” asked Viktor, hoping almost desperately that Makkachin could be another reason he could see Yuuri again.

“Oh! That'll be lovely—but oh—I have a full schedule tomorrow. I won't be able to stay for long.” said Yuuri forlornly and Viktor felt his heart sank. “But—if you don't mind—I—umm—the day after is my off day?” Viktor felt his heart leapt up in joy.

“I'm bringing her on Wednesday then,” declared Viktor with what must be a foolish smile. Before he could think about it, Viktor opened his phone to the dial pad screen before he offered it to Yuuri. “Can I have your number? Just—so you can tell me if maybe your plans changed—or if you want photos of Makka,” explained Viktor lamely. Yuuri looked at Viktor with mirth in his eyes, chuckling as he input his numbers in.

A few seconds later, Yuuri's own phone rang. “So I can ask photos of Makkachin later,” said Yuuri shyly, affirming what Viktor said. That smile caused his heart to somersault. He quickly chose a random photo of Makkachin and sent it to Yuuri who smiled wide when he saw the photo he received on his screen. 

“Ask and you shall receive,” said Viktor, a tiny part of his brain that surprisingly sounded like Chris laughed at what he said. He didn't care how lame it sounded though, because Yuuri's response was to laugh which made Viktor also laughed. It took them a few minutes to regain composure and even then Viktor couldn't wipe of the smile—and so did Yuuri apparently.

“I think, we've been asked to leave,” said Yuuri in low voice, leaning almost conspirationally. “They keep giving us glances.” Viktor turned a little bit and saw that that was the case indeed. There were some customers standing by the door waiting for available seats. As much as Viktor wanted to continue talking with Yuuri, they shouldn't be rude. Viktor gestured for both him and Yuuri to leave their seats and went to the cashier. Viktor was planning to pay for Yuuri, but Yuuri was being very stubborn about it that Viktor yielded.

“I'm sorry if I was too strong there,” said Yuuri once they were out on the street, walking back toward the shop. “You've given me free coffee and I just....” Yuuri trailed off, looking sideway.

“It's really okay. I just—“ ' _want to treat this like a date' “—_ well, I still feel bad about yesterday,” Viktor lied. Yuuri looked almost exasperated now, shaking his head.

“Please forget about it, Viktor. I was fine. I _am_ fine. It's really _really_ not your fault, so let's move on okay?” reprimanded Yuuri, with a pointed _look_. Viktor nodded compliantly and Viktor had an inkling feeling that he would be week against that _look._ Viktor got to get a grip.

“You can smoke, you know,” said Yuuri suddenly—right Viktor was having an internal conflict, which caused Viktor to look with wide eyes at Yuuri. “Well—maybe not right in front of me, but if you want to, I don't mind waiting? You look agitated after we finished lunch.”

“I quit,” Viktor blurted out. 

“You quit?”

“Since yesterday,” replied Viktor, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling shy. “I've been thinking of quitting and I finally decided to after yesterday.” Yuuri stopped walking and was looking at him, expression unreadable, eyes wide behind his glasses. Viktor didn't know what to think.

“You quit... Because of me?” repeated Yuuri slowly. Viktor nodded. 

“I put on nicotine patch but I left my gum to lessen the craving back at the shop—“

“Do you want to go have coffee with me?” asked Yuuri suddenly quick, words jumbled together interrupting what Viktor was saying, with a serious face and flush on his cheeks. Viktor was confused and it seemed to came across since Yuuri took a deep breath in front of him, before he resumed. “By coffee, I really mean a date, because you are a barista and you're probably tired of coffee, so maybe not coffee but lunch—or dinner—“ It took him longer than necessary to really process what Yuuri was saying—his brain did latch itself to one word though.

“A date?” Viktor asked, feeling surreal. “With me?”

“Yes? Yes. I mean it's okay if you want to refuse, since we just met yesterday—and I've also caused much trouble—and you're also probably not interested or maybe you have someone already—“

“No—I have no one for years. But, I—are you serious? Going on a date with me?” Yuuri nodded, looking nervous, hands gripping tightly, but with eyes looking straight him, waiting for Viktor's answer that was always going to be a yes. There was no way Viktor could ever say no, even though he didn't feel like he deserved for even a privilege of one date with the man in front of him.

“I'd love to go on a date with you,” replied Viktor in low voice, couldn't help the growing smile nor what must be a fond look—not that Viktor wanted to ever concealed it. People were walking down the street around them, but Viktor only had eyes for this beautiful man. “I'm not sure why, but I will not say no,” said Viktor. Yuuri let out a small surprised laugh.

“I'm not sure why you said yes, but okay,” said Yuuri grinning shyly “Okay,” repeated Yuuri much slower, his brown eyes shone bright. No one had ever looked at Viktor this way.

“Okay,” repeated Viktor dreamily. “It's a date.” Yuuri nodded again. Viktor felt like he could just stand there in the middle of the street for many more hours, feeling and enjoying the happiness that bubbled inside him. Viktor felt so reluctant to break this moment. But then Yuuri's phone suddenly rang. Yuuri duck his head, fishing out his phone to answer the call. Yuuri mouthed a 'sorry' at Viktor, before he answered. Yuuri answered in monosyllables, and then he hung up.

“That was Phichit—my friend—whom I'm going to meet with. He finished early,” said Yuuri. Viktor felt a pang of disappointed, but he knew he also still had work to do.

“Okay then. Let's go back? Where do you meet him?” Viktor said.

“At his apartment—so I'm going to take left at this intersection,” said Yuuri when they reached the red light. “I will text you?”

“Yes please,” confirmed Viktor. “I will send more photos of Makkachin too,” teased Viktor which earned him a chuckle from Yuuri.

“You better do.” The crossing light turned green for the way Yuuri was going to. Said man was walking backwards slowly. “Have fun at work, Viktor,” bid Yuuri throwing one last smile before he crossed the street, once Yuuri reached the other side, he turned over and stood there—he was waiting for him, Viktor realised. Viktor felt so giddy, he could only smile like a fool at Yuuri across the street. When it was Viktor's turn to cross the street, he immediately turned around to wave at Yuuri, who was waving back, before both of them left for their respective destinations.

Viktor had never felt this light and happy in years. The physical agitation he felt for quitting was almost unnoticeable with how full he was felling. Viktor couldn't wait to tell everyone about this.

He should give Mila a raise.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated!! :D
> 
> I'm trying to write it as realistic as possible (in terms of how hard it is to actually quit smoking), but eventually despite my knowledge, the stories I have read, my own brother's struggle to quit, I'm not a smoker and I can't possibly replicate how it really feels, to crave for something so bad. So, I'm sorry if I can't portray it as realistic as I want it to be.
> 
> Remember kids. Smoking is not cool and is not healthy. So don't smoke!!!


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